Alex

Content note: depression

Alex trudged along the muddy forest path. Of course it was muddy. It felt like there was a constant drizzle following Alex through life. Not necessarily the real drizzle that fell from the sky, but whenever Alex saw even the tiniest chance for the smallest parade, someone or something rained on it. Or worse.

It was hard to stay cheerful, and Alex had long given up trying. Cheer was something for other people. People with hope and energy and, in general, a life.

Technically Alex had a life. There was the job at a customer support center, where Alex dealt with the ever-same questions of the ever-same type of people. Long ago Alex had learned that spouting enough technobabble gibberish made people hang up and call again in hope of a different support agent.

The performance reviews were not great as a result, but as the pay was dismal there was not much competition. Alex even got grudgingly promoted to senior support agent as no one had been at the job longer. Now Alex gave performance reviews, based not so much on quality of work, but on how much the others bothered Alex. It still sucked, but at least with fewer people.

There was also a rented apartment, which was basically a room with an attitude, but that way at least one of them had an attitude. Alex did not believe in spending more money on a better place, as the better place would also come with a constant drizzle. It was less disappointing to feel down in a cheap place.

Alex flinched visibly when thinking about friends. People made Alex uncomfortable, especially people who were nice. Alex always expected them to want something. Maybe they only wanted to feel good about themselves, making Alex their “pity project”, but Alex did not believe one word of their “I just like hanging out with you, you are fun!”.

If there was one thing Alex was not, it was fun. Bitter, maybe. Gloomy, probably. A drag, definitely.

So Alex stayed away from people who might expect gratitude just for spending time together. Being alone was better. Safer.

Right now, Alex was running away from a garden concert. Everybody there was enjoying themselves, eating, drinking, chatting, having fun under hastily erected tarps. Alex felt like a constant cloud hanging over the whole scene and thought it kinder to simply go away. Just for a bit.

There were only a very few people coming out of the forest; not a surprise, given the weather. At first, Alex did not pay attention, but at some point it became hard to ignore that the people looked desperate. There were tear-stained faces, eyes wide with fear. Alex shrugged. Those looks were very familiar from the mirror.

“Turn around while you can,” someone uttered between sobs. Alex hoped that meant that the forest would be empty. But instead there was the occasional lone figure slumped against a tree or curled up between straggling ferns. Even the plants seemed dismal.

After a couple more minutes, Alex came into a clearing. In that clearing hovered something that looked… Alex wondered. How did it look? Lost. It looked lost. Alex knew that feeling and felt drawn to it. It was like being called by a resonating pain.

“Can I help you?” Alex asked.

The shape flinched. “How can you come so close? How can you even see me?”

Alex shrugged apologetically. “I looked, I saw, I walked, I came this close. Nothing special. If you wanted to hide, you should not be out here in the open.”

The shape stared. “But no one can see through the darkness around me or bear to be near it.”

Alex nodded. That would explain the state of the people on the way. “Your darkness looks and feels no different from my own. Sometimes I wish that no one could see through mine, either.”

The shape solidified into a more human form and reached out a hand towards Alex, as if testing the air. “I see. Are you a shade, too?” When Alex asked what a shade was, the shape wavered a bit, as if disappointed.

“Shades used to be more common. We draw in the fear and pain of people that is too much to bear, turn it into darkness and take it out to the sky, expanding its borders. But there are more and more people, and more and more pain. And it takes ever longer to reach the rim to place the darkness at the edge where nothing was. So there are only ever a few of us here at any time. Too few.”

The shade sighed. “We cannot stop drawing. There comes a point, when we have taken up so much, generated so much darkness, that we cannot hold on to it anymore and it spills out, affecting everyone around us.” Alex nodded. “I know that feeling.”

The shade shrugged. “So when you came close, I hoped you were another shade, here to help me carry this darkness away. I am not sure if I can rise to the sky weighed down as I am. And as it is, I am doing more harm than good.”

Alex sat down on a bit of a fallen tree that was not quite as wet as the ground. This could take a while to resolve. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no, I am no shade. I just… feel like one, sometimes.”

The shade moved closer to where Alex sat. “You might not be a shade, but you carry a similar burden. How do you hold it without affecting everyone around you?” There was not much humor in Alex’s laugh. “Believe me, I do affect people. Right now I am only here because I did not want to drag others down with my mood.” Alex paused. “Although they do not curl up and cry just because they are near me.”

“Can I learn to hold it in like you do?” the shade asked. “I dunno if that is such a great idea,” Alex cautioned. “If I help you to gather your darkness closer, it might be hard to let go of it again. I mean, you are not drawing my pain, right? Because I do not know how to let it go.” The shade sighed. “So what can we do?”

Alex patted the tree. “You could sit with me.” When the shade sat, Alex held out an arm. “Lean against me.” The shade pressed against Alex’s clothes, a kindred weight. “And now?” asked the shade.

“Now, we sit together. We do not do anything. We just are.”

After a while the rain stopped. Yet a bit later there was movement at the edge of the clearing, where someone got up from the ground, in a bit of a daze, to go home. Alex and the shade stayed on the fallen tree for maybe an hour and a half before the shade stirred again.

“What has happened?” it wanted to know. “My darkness is still here, and your darkness is still here, but mine does not seem to spill out anymore and feels… lighter, somehow?”

Alex smiled. “Sometimes it is enough to know that you are not alone.”

Being lighter now, the shade was able to rise up to bring the darkness to the edges of the sky. It promised not to wait too long next time, so it would not be weighed down. And Alex said that if it happened again anyway, they could always sit together for a bit.

With the shade gone, Alex went back to the garden concert, not only to get warm and dry, but also for the music. And maybe the people. Maybe sitting with someone once in a while would be good. For both of them.